News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1887-05-19

Hoe jolly no!
And the entire crowd Joined in the
refrain that, bursting out upon the cool
night air, was waited on the winds and
echoed and re-echoed from the river
swamp to the pine-covered ridge. The
rustling of the husks and the spirited
patter of the clean ears as they fell in
the open space in front was like the soft
tripping of fairy feet as an accompani-
ment to the merry music, up and down
the leveled walk, keeping time with the
music.
By and by there was short cessation,
and an old brown jug was passed from
mouth to mouth around the circle. It
contained the fiery spirit of the corn, and
as each llstx laborer eSalned. his dram
he smacked his lips, andswith q II ank zee,
boss" resumed his labors. Then the
drum-major struck up new tune:
From Sat'd'y night 'twell Sunday
De gals is in my min,
But er Monday mo min light am seen,
De wife man got me agwine.
o! git erlong down de road,
o! git erlong down de road,
Come, git erlong down de road,
Ny love,
Come, git erlong down de road.
While lives in de country
My gal lives in de town;
Sometime l have a notion, love,
To jump in de river an drown.
o! git erlOng down de road
o! git erlong down de road,
Come, git erlong down de road,
My love,
Come, git erlong down de road.
Higher and higher mounted the stars,
and brighter glowed the frosted silver
band of the milky way, as it hung sus-
pended midway the blue black vault of
the far away heavens. And still the
work, if one might class it as work, went
on. Charley changed his song, and
after he had sung each stanza, with the
aid of few voices, the crowd would join
in the refrain, and it sounded as if one
voice, so true was the harmony and
natural unison.
Jay bird died wild the whoopin cough,
Sparrer died wild de colo;
Long come er frog wild fiddle on is back
Quiring de way to de frolic.
Then came the refrain:
o, can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye gal,
An l can't git erlong wild er hog eye.
Called Miss Sue to de ball las night,
Sot 'er down to suppah,
She tainted N ovah de table fell
An stuck 'er nose in de buttah.
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlnng wild er hog eye,
Can't g1t erlOng wild er hog eye gal,
An L can't git erlong wild er hog eye.
Sent fo' de doctah to fotch er to-,
An he WIS sump'n latah,
She stuck er turkey bone n 'er eye
m got choke to deaf on er tatah.
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye gal,
An l can't git erlong wild er hog eye.
As the hill grew smaller the exertions
were redoubled. Boys too small to shuck
corn were busted with baskets carrying
the shucks to the tall rail nens, and many
were the wrestling matches they would
have among the yielding shucks as they
trampled them down i'll the pens. The
master of the house, and generally the
ladies and some of the neighboring
planters, would assemble at little dis
tance and enjoy the corn shocking and
the wild songs quite as much as the ne
groes. At length the pile would grow
so small that the laborers would strike
up their ''supper song:
o, forty weight er Johnny cake,
An fifty weight er cheese,
An or big pot or hominy,
N er little pot er pease
o, Jenny, amt yo ash cake done, my
da'lin'?
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my deah?
An Invent to de rivah,
An l couldn't git ercross,
An give five dOllaghs TO n ole bline hoss
o, Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my
dalin'
Big ole buzza'd er fyin by;
Sezee, sole man, yo' boss II die"
An eff e dies II tan is skin,
N eff he lives I'll ride i'm ergin.
o, Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my
da'ln'
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my deah ?
Sol my hoss in Tennessee,
N his jawbOne come back to me,
An de jawbone popped an de marrer flew
High g my head, an higher too.
., Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done. nv
dalin'?
Jenny, amt yo ash cake done, my deah?
There would be a scramble for the last
ear, and when it was stripped of its husk
and tossed on the pile they would make
a rush for the master, and, lifting him,
a willing captive, to their shoulders, they
would carry him all around the corn pile,
singing, yelling. dancing and laughing
until they were tired out.
"Treat, boss, treat, " would then be the
cry, and the old brown Jug would be
passed, and long and deep were the
draughts they made.
Under the shadow of the great honey
locust trees long tables were set. and
heaped and piled in prodigal hospitality
were tAo homely viands of the planta-